A Change in Time
by frost tickles
Summary: What if the North has a secret, one that has been kept from when the last King of Winter, Torrhen Stark, kneeled to Aegon the Conqueror? In this story, magic is still very much alive in the North, and the South has forsaken the old ways. But winter is coming, and our heroes will have to be smarter, stronger, and faster if they want to survive the Long Night.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** So this is my first time actually publishing a fic up. To set the stage, Jon Snow's real name is Jaemon Targaryen. He is named after three men: Aemon Targaryen, Jaehaerys Targaryen, and Torrhen Stark. Lord Eddard Stark did not hide the secret of his birth from Lady Catelyn, instead, the two, along with a very-much-alive Ser Arthur Dayne, decided to pass the babe off as the illegitimate child of Brandon Stark and Ashara Dayne. This would explain his Valyrian eyes. The full tale of the Tower of Joy will be explained later. Don't worry guys, Dany will be make an appearance in the next chapter more than likely. This chapter is basically setting the stage for the rest of the tale. Please let me know what you think! Suggestions are always appreciated!

 _ ***Disclaimer**_ _ *****_

 _ ***All characters, locations, and storylines are from the brilliant George R. R. Martin, I own nothing, and this tale is merely the what-if of a bored fan**_ _ *****_

 _ **Chapter 1**_

 _ **Winterfell, 298 AC**_

An icy wind whistled through the remains of a castle, its walls crumbling and black with soot. Ice and fire warred within its ancient confines, marring the ruins even more so than they had been. Overhead, the cries of some unknown beast echoed fiercely, loud enough to shake the mortar binding the remaining bricks to one another. The shadow of a man fell across dirty snow. He had no idea where he was, yet the building was eerily reminiscent, and he couldn't help but feel that he had been there before.

The man walked out of the castle and was met with a field covered in corpses. Men in the colors of his house, others that weren't, wolves the size of horses, stags, manticores, lions, and even a handful of giants that had fallen by their beloved mammoths. One shape caught his eye, larger than the rest, a scaled nightmare lay surrounded by fire and ice. Slowly he trudged through the mud and blood, a tugging in his navel pulling him closer and closer to what could only be a dragon. _But weren't those dead? The last died off in the Dragon Pits outside of the Red Keep?_ Apparently not, he mused, if one was lying in the snow then they certainly weren't in the South, where it was always summer.

He approached the beast, the tugging growing more insistent, like his spirit was waiting for something. With trembling hands, he reached forward, making to touch the side of the dragon. The moment his hands met the creatures scaled side, he froze, terror creeping in. _By the Gods, it's still alive!_ And alive it was, for no sooner had he come to this realization than the beast raised its head and, with a single look, opened its maw, teeth longer than a man's forearm gleaming with blood. _Seven Hells I'm a dead man._ And so, he closed his eyes, waiting for the rush of pain that would signal his death. Seconds felt like an eternity while the young man trembled before a creature older than time. _Why wasn't he dead? He should really probably be dead now._

Opening his eyes, he saw the dragon giving him an amused look, or as much of one as a dragon could give. The dragon seemed to come to a decision about something and beckoned him closer, and carefully lifting its wing. Just as he caught sight of a bundle behind the appendage, a roar pierced the air as a lioness came, seemingly out of nowhere, and leaped onto the dragon's neck. "No!" His screams echoed through the air as darkness closed in.

* * *

"Jon, wake up! The King is arriving later today! We have to get ready!" The shout of his cousin caused Jon to wake up, panting and covered in sweat. He had been having the same dream for the last month, a dragon on the field of a battle surrounded by dead enemies outside of a ruined keep. It was easy enough to figure out what the dragon and other creatures meant. Jon had always kept a journal to write his dreams in, going back later to sort them out and what they could mean. With one like this, Jon had been poring over the book incessantly, picking apart any details that stood out. A battle was coming, one that would involve almost all of the houses in Westeros and even the Free Folk out in the Gift. The why's, how's, and most importantly, the when's, were unknown, and it was driving the young man spare.

With a groan, he got up and made his way over to wear a pale of water and a cloth were waiting. He made quick work of cleaning up, making sure that he wouldn't smell when the Baratheon's and Lannister's arrived. _Lady Catelyn would lose it if any of us weren't looking proper and clean for the Fat King._ While he and Lady Catelyn did not always see eye to eye, he adored his aunt. She had treated him like one of her own after the death of his parents and for that Jon would always be grateful. Pulling a tunic and leathers on, the raven-haired man made his way out of his room and through the stone halls of Winterfell. He knew that there was much to do, even by the nephew of the castle's Lord, but he wanted to check on Ghost first.

The albino direwolf was not kept in the kennels of Winterfell, but rather, the Wolf Den in the Godswood. His pup lived there with the rest of the Stark pack, protected by the North and the Old Gods. The direwolves were believed to be extinct, legends told by grandmothers to scare troublesome children, but those in the North knew better. The wolves of Winterfell were the last free pack of direwolves left beyond the Wall. They had been there before the First Men journeyed to Westeros and it was said that they were the real reason that Bran the Builder laid the foundations for Winterfell there. Whatever the case, the Starks had always protected the pack, bonding with a wolf using their warging abilities to create a mental and spiritual link between man and beast. Together, the pair became nearly one, their thoughts and powers shared in a channel open only to them.

Their connection with the direwolves is what helped secure the Starks has the Kings of Winter for thousands of years, until the arrival of Aegon the Conqueror during the reign of Torrhen Stark. Jon's pup was not even a full month old yet, still nursing off his mother, Ned Stark's wolf, _Shaelin_. As he walked into the Godswood, Jon immediately felt comfort wash over him. The Old Gods were strong in the North, but especially so in Winterfell. The Heart Tree was in the center of the Godswood, next to a dark pool that no one had ever been able to swim to the bottom of. _I remember when Theon tried to convince Sansa that a Kraken lived in the pool. Though with how deep it is, what lies in it is anyone's guess._ The still water was pitch black, seeming to absorb all of the light around it. As a child, it had frightened Jon, but with age came the realization that it only dark because of the depth, not because of some evil presence.

He came out of his revelry when a wolf that was as tall as he was walked out of the brush, it's fur silver and grey. _So, the pup returns._ The voice echoed in Jon's head, teasing. " _Visenya,_ you know I'm not a pup anymore, I'm seven and ten, a man grown," he reminded her. _You will always be a pup to me, little one._ Her voice was sadder, taking a wistful quality. _I remember the day your mother and I bonded. Lyanna was so excited, so sure of me, of our bond. The only other time she was ever that excited was when we found out that she was expecting you, my pup. And there is so much of her in you. She would be proud to be your mother, Jae._ Jon felt the sting of salt as tears rolled down his face, unbidden. His mother, Lyanna Targaryen, the lost princess that had died to see him live. The entire realm believed her a victim of Rhaegar Targaryen, kidnapped and raped, the martyr for Robert's Rebellion. How wrong they were, Jon mused. She had died for love, to see her son live when his parents could not. There was no rape, no kidnapping. They were the lies of man that couldn't handle being rejected.

He heard Visenya growl and shook himself out of his thoughts. _You were zoning out again, Jaemon. Do not dwell of the mistakes of men, remember, but do not dwell._ Nodding his head in agreement, the two continued to talk as they made their way to the Den. Other direwolves greeted them as they grew closer to Shaelin and her pups. Seeing Ghost always bolstered his mood, the pup's playfulness a welcomed reprieve from the outside world. Born the runt, the pack and the Starks had worked extra hard to see the albino direwolf grow healthy and hale. Now he was the same size as the largest in the litter, Robb's pup Greywind, and everyone was relieved.

The ball of white fluff bounded over, tongue lolling with a huge grin that he reserved just for Jon. Even though Ghost wouldn't be old enough to talk to anyone for a few more months, he had learned to use his facial expressions and body language to get his point across. The two played for a while before Jon had to leave. The King should be arriving at any time now and he needed to make sure that Arya and Bran were present. His cousins were almost impossible to handle, only listening to Jon and their father.

Jon found them easily enough, they were hiding in his room of all places, talking about the king's coming. Grinning to himself, Jon had to remind them to get ready. "Remember that no one is to know about the Inner City, even if you make friends with Prince Tommen or Princess Myrcella. The Inner City is a Winterfell secret. No one since Aegon the Conqueror has ever seen it, and it must stay that way throughout this visit. Do you understand?" The twin terrors acquiesced, murmuring choruses of, "Yes, Jon. Of course, Jae."

Together, the three raced over to where the rest of the Starks and household were waiting. Jon released a sigh of relief when Catelyn gave him a look of thanks at seeing Arya clean for once. From his position next to Theon, Jon could not see when exactly the King's company entered the keep, but he could certainly hear them. The horses whinnied and snorted while hounds barked. Laughter echoed throughout the grounds as Robert was helped off of his horse and greeted Lord Eddard Stark. "Ned, you haven't changed a bit since I last saw you!" the king bellowed. "And you've gotten fatter than the cows over in the Reach, your grace." Ned's comment caused everyone to freeze, not a sound made until Robert released a humungous laugh, slapping his friend on the back in delight.

Turning his attention elsewhere, the King greeted each member of Lord Stark's family, pausing at Arya. "You look exactly like your Aunt, my dear Lyanna, before that dragonscum, Rhaegar Targaryen took her away from me." Jon didn't know what Robert meant by that comment, what sympathy he thought to gain, but it didn't work. Anger for the man burned deep in his belly, and Theon nonchalantly grabbed his wrist. "You need to calm down, Jae." The King didn't know that Lyanna had a son and Winterfell wanted it to stay that way. If Robert found out, he would hunt Jon to the ends of the world, not satisfied until he was dead at his feet. It gave him pleasure though, to see that he was not the only one deeply unsettled by King Robert's words. All around him, the staff of Winterfell murmured restlessly, eyeing Robert with distaste. He heard more than one servant say that they were going to keep a close eye on Arya, and keep the King away from her. _Good, that fat Usurper better not touch a single hair on Arya's head._ She isn't Lyanna and the King is married but that didn't seem to matter to Robert, if the tone of his voice was anything to go by.

When the King demanded to see Lyanna's tomb Jon nearly lost it, only keeping himself in check when Theon gave him another pointed look. _Damn Robert Baratheon._ The man knew that his actions led to the war that took away three Starks and the most-suited candidate for King of the Seven Kingdoms. Ever since that day, the kingdoms had been in unrest as Robert drank and whored the land into crippling debt. Jon was shaken out of his thoughts when Theon tugged his sleeve, indicating that the meet and greet was over. _Thank the Old Gods and the New for that._ They made their way over to where Robb was currently speaking to a young boy with coal-black hair. _Prince Tommen?_ His thoughts were confirmed as Robb noticed his two friends standing nearby and called them over. "Theon, Jon, come meet Prince Tommen. He wanted to know a few pointers about swordsmanship." The prince looked very nervous, wringing his hands together and barely keeping eye contact for extended periods. _You would think that a prince would have more confidence._ Theon and Robb seemed to be of the same opinion as they looked at one another.

Theon broke the ice, stepping forward and doing introductions. "A pleasure to meet you, Prince Tommen. I am Theon Greyjoy, of the Iron Islands, ward of Lord Eddard Stark. My gloomy friend over here is Jon Snow, the bastard of Brandon Stark and Ashara Dayne." The boy smiled shyly before saying, "You can call me Tommen, if that's ok, the prince thing is way too formal for me." Theon smiled. "Ok, we'll do that as long as you're ok with calling us Robb, Theon, and Jon. Is that alright with you?" Jon had only seen Theon this gentle when the youngest three Starks were babes. He had almost forgotten that the Iron Born had such a caring side to him. "I'd like that very much, Theon!" Tommen exclaimed. It would seem that the young prince's nerves had been seemingly forgotten in the face of kindness. _Hmm. Something isn't right about that. No, I'm just being paranoid with the King around for the foreseeable future._ Still, Jon couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more behind Tommen's strange behavior.

 **End of Chapter 1**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Hi guys! The feedback from chapter 1 has been fantastic! Thank you so much for reading this story! To clear up a few questions: Yes, Tommen and Myrcella are true Baratheons in this fic. I thought it would spice things up a bit, plus I adore them and how they remained kind after living with Cersei and Joffrey. Dany is in this chapter! Along with a couple of special characters! Hope you guys like it! This is an Arya-centric chapter to explain a bit further, THAT scene during the meet and greet with the royal family. It will switch between Arya's point of view and another characters.

 _ ***Disclaimer***_

 _ ***As always, I own none of this. All characters, plots, and anything else come from the brilliance that is George R.R. Martin***_

 _ **Chapter 2**_

 _ **Winterfell, 298 AC**_

Arya shook her head in disgust as she recalled meeting King Robert. She and Bran had been excited for the visit ever since father told them. Finally, the chance to meet knights and kingsguard. She'd heard that Ser Jaime Lannister and his brother, Tyrion, would be traveling with the entourage. The opportunity to spy on actual knights was all too tempting to risk her mother's wrath by misbehaving. Lady Catelyn could be as fierce as the direwolves when she wanted to and Arya wanted no part of that.

Everything had been going great too. Bran had suggested that they wait in Jon's room to make sure they weren't tempted into mischief. _Although that just led to us poking through Jon's things. Seriously, our cousin loves his hair._ There must have been a dozen combs lying throughout the room and Arya was sure that there were some that they hadn't found. Still, what would have been a great day was spoiled the minute she caught sight of King Robert. The man was great alright, but only in circumference. He was the fattest person that she had ever seen, and the stench of wine clung to him like a cloud.

As if that hadn't been enough, the old lecher had the gall to compare her to her Aunt Lyanna with far too much familiarity for the situation. _I'm still a child, nowhere close to flowering yet, and Lyanna has been dead for seventeen years. He's sick._ But everyone that came with the king seemed to be surprised by his comment towards her too, as if this was a first, even for him. _That man is a disgusting pig. Why did father ever agree to him becoming King of the Seven Kingdoms?_ She needed air. Ever since the introductions had ceased the household staff had been preparing for the welcome feast that was to be held in honor of the royal party. _Maybe I can slip out without anyone noticing…_ It wouldn't be too challenging, either. A year or so prior, when her parents realized how much more she was suited to a warrior's life, they had decided to see her trained.

Enter, Syrio Forrel and Nymeria Sand, her new instructors. Syrio was to teach her the Water Dance, a fighting style native to Braavos, one of their trade partners, a Free City of Essos. Nymeria, the bastard daughter of Prince Oberyn Martell, taught her how to wield a whip and act like a lady. At first, when her mother had told her of the lady training, Arya had refused, after all, what good was fighting if you were still being forced to dress up as a stupid airhead? But Nymeria had quietly asked her mother if she could have a walk with Arya. The two traveled through the castle's grounds and into the Crypts, stopping at her Aunt Lyanna's tomb. Nymeria had looked over, her eyes insistent, "Arya, you know of what happened to your Aunt, yes?" At the time, Arya hadn't the slightest idea where the Dornishwoman had been going with this but nodded. "She was willfull, strong, refused to be forced into the role of a lady. You are very similar. But Lyanna was not given the same opportunities. Through her mistakes and sacrifices, you have the chance to avoid her fate.' She paused, before continuing with a smirk. 'And knowing how to be a lady is not the same as being one, no?"

So it was that Arya learned the arts of court, how to play the game and win, death, as Nym said, wasn't a luxury that she would be afforded should she lose the game of thrones. Through their diligent teaching, Nym and Syrio were turning Arya into something that the North had not seen for many centuries. Already, the Northmen called her the Winter Wolf. And from that training, it was painfully obvious that Robert Baratheon looked at her and saw Lyanna. He wanted her dead Aunt and in his drunken state, Arya was the next best thing. Now she was confined to her room or the Inner City. Father feared what she might do if the Fat King tried to make a move on her. She snorted, father was probably right about that one, Arya mused darkly. If he tried to do anything to her, he'd be short a head. _And that's if it was only me. If Nym or Syrio were there?_ Arya actually felt bad for the king, but that faded fast when the image of him trying to get a suit of armor on over his belly came, unbidden, into her mind and the youngest daughter of Lord Eddard Stark soon found herself in stitches on the floor.

"I wonder what is so funny, to make the Winter Wolf laugh so?" A familiar voice asked from her window. "Fat King...armor…wouldn't…fit!" Arya explained in bursts, still shaking with laughter. "I'm not sure why you were thinking of that, but that is certainly something I'd pay to witness," the Dornishwoman replied, a smile gracing her face, making her eyes brighter. Calming down, Arya sat back on her bed, crossing her legs to save space as her mentor joined her. "Why don't we visit the Inner City? Maester Aemon has been asking about you, says he has some tomes that might interest you." "Can Rhaenys come too? Maester Aemon wanted to see how she was growing," Arya asked eagerly. Originally, she was going to name her wolf Nymeria, after the warrior queen that founded House Nymeros Martell, but she didn't want to confuse her mentor or pup. Visenya was already taken by Lyanna's direwolf, so her pup was named Rhaenys, in honor of Jae's half-sister and their ancestor, the rider of Meraxes and sister-wife to Aegon the Conqueror.

Arya looked up at Nymeria with hopeful eyes. She hadn't been able to see her gray and white direwolf pup since the night before. Nym sighed, she had only known the younger girl for a year but in that time, Arya had become her little sister and she would do anything for her. "Fine, wait here. I will return in a few minutes, where is the harness." A harness made of thick leather and iron filled her vision as an eager Arya jumped to comply. "Thank you, Nym! I'll be sure to work extra hard in my lessons!" _She still needs to work on the terms she sets. This'll be fun._ "Even in Septa Mordane's lessons?" Nymeria asked innocently, her face smooth except for a twitch of her lips. Arya groaned as she realized her mistake, "Even Septa Mordane's." "Good girl, don't open the door for anyone except your family or Syrio. I'll return with Rhaenys and then we'll head to the Inner City," Nymeria checked the window before climbing out gracefully, the harness attached to her belt.

Once outside, it was almost ridiculously easy to move unseen throughout the castle grounds. The guards weren't able to go through their usual routine's, leaving Winterfell strangely bare. The only sign of life came from the stables, kennels, and the training yard, where Jaemon, Theon, and Robb were speaking to the younger prince, Tommen. She couldn't make out what they were saying but the meaning was clear when Theon left and came back with a training bow. Nym watched for a minute longer as the men began teaching the soft boy how to defend himself before moving on to the Godswood. Once there, she felt the familiar weight that came from the stares of the direwolves that guarded the entrance of the pack's territory. With a nod that was returned, Nymeria quickly made her way to the Den where she found Rhaenys, already ready to go. "Are you sure that she can't speak to Arya already?" Nym asked the wolf mother, Shaelin. The brown direwolf gave her and Rhaenys a look of fond exasperation as the pup was harnessed and stowed away in a leather bag. Strapping it around her shoulder and checking to make sure that her cargo was ok, the Dornishwoman bid the pack farewell with the promise of goat the next time she visited.

The journey back to Arya's room was much the same until she crossed the Training Yard. In the shadows, it was all too easy to watch as Crown Prince Joffrey approached the small group that was still teaching Tommen. His cruel words were impossible to ignore and she felt the stir of anger that had been growing since she learned of King Robert's impending visit. That child was not fit to be king. She'd heard horrible stories about what he did to the cats of the Red Keep, especially little Tommen's. Joffrey was Cersei's son, of that there was no doubt. But the boy was a coward when confronted, acting nothing like a child of Robert Baratheon should've. It definitely left a few questions that she wanted answers to. _Maybe Maester Aemon has heard something._ As Maester of the Inner City, the ancient Targaryen was in charge of the library and hospice. No one knew as much as the grizzled man, so old that his sight had failed him nearly two whole generations prior.

With a shrug of her shoulders, Nymeria left the Training Yard and climbed back up to Arya's room. The smaller girl gave a sigh of relief upon seeing her mentor hale and whole, "I heard shouting from the Training Yard, what happened?" Placing the squirming pup on the floor, she loosened the muscles of her shoulder, happy to be free of the quickly growing direwolf. "Joffrey. That boy is a menace. Jae, Theon, and Robb were teaching Prince Tommen how to shoot a bow when his older brother showed up. I have never seen someone treat a sibling so cruelly, not since the burning of the Hound." The atmosphere of the room felt cold after her outburst and Arya appeared both angry and ill at the same time. The tale of the Hound was not well known but his brother's never-ending cruelty certainly was. Anyone seeing Sandor Clegane's hatred of his brother and the burn wrapping around half of his face could draw the right conclusion.

Despite his crimes, Ser Gregor had never seen punishment for his actions. _Much like Joffrey, I'd wager._ Nymeria had seen the queen several times in her life, and the coddling of her eldest son would come as no surprise. Still, there were more important things than the Crown Prince's attitude. "Come along Arya, I trust you have everything you need?" Sensing the need to change subjects, Arya nodded, her arms full of puppy, a bag containing books she wanted to return strapped to her side. "Then let's go." Crossing the room, Arya had to let the pup down as she took a pendant that every Stark kept on their person and pressed it into a nearly invisible slot on one of the walls. There was no sound as the stone door opened smoothly, and the two women entered the tunnel, Rhaenys trailing behind loyally.

As soon as the door closed behind the trio, the tunnel became lit by a moss that was planted in troughs above their heads. The pale light was strong enough to filter through the thick darkness. Arya loved the tunnels. They were everywhere in Winterfell, and very well maintained. The moss that lit the path was unique to not only the North, but Winterfell in particular. Nowhere else in the world did this species grow. It was just another thing that the girl loved about her home. There was no place as unique and truly magical as Winterfell or the Inner City. Oh, she hoped that Maester Aemon had found the book she was looking for. The library of Inner City-Winterfell was the greatest in all of Westeros, and only the North knew of its existence. Arya remembered asking as a young child, why they had to keep the wealth and magic of the North secret. Her father had sighed before placing her on his knee. "It is to protect the North. If everyone in the world knew of our gifts, they would come, asking and taking, until there is nothing left behind but ruins. I know that there are good people out there and I wish we could offer them what we have but there are too many that would abuse that trust. Do you understand, Arya?" He had been so serious, but the sadness and regret was still visible, even to a toddler. "Yes, father," and she did, understand, but even now the reality hurt.

She pushed back the memory. They had been walking for roughly fifteen minutes, going down stairs and other inclines until the passage petered out into another doorway. One press of the direwolf pendant and the trio were in a large hall. All around, the hall was alive with servants and other staff bustling about, their voices merry. A few asked Arya how she was doing after the incident earlier that morning. The fact that so many cared about her and her well-being truly moved the young girl. Anywhere else and you wouldn't be able to see the type of bond that existed between House and staff in the North. It was built on mutual respect, trust, and love for one another. She was proud to be a part of that, and vowed to help her people as much as she could. "Come on, Arya, we can't keep the Maester waiting," Nym reminded her gently.

Together they passed under magnificent stone arches and murals depicting different scenes from history. There was the birth of the Children of the Forest, the discovery of the Direwolves, Ice Dragons flying across a great mountain range, the steps of the First Men and so many others that she still didn't have a name for. Everywhere they looked was another gleaming example of all that the people North of the Neck could offer. Merchants stalls were set up in a thriving marketspace, the scent of exotic spices in the air. Vendors called out to the girls, proud of their wares. There was even a stall offering tempered dragonglass jewelry that could turn into weapons with the flick of a wrist.

Still, they hadn't come to browse the market, as much as Nymeria knew that Arya would've loved to. _And honestly, I would too. Even Dorne's markets are pale in comparison to the Inner City of Winterfell._ She knew that they had to go see Maester Aemon. While he did want to give Arya some books and check out Rhaenys, there was something important that she needed to talk to him about. That encounter with King Robert had made her nervous. He obviously wasn't in his right mind at the moment, to mistake and eleven-year-old girl for her dead aunt. Who's to say what would happen if he somehow found out about Jon's true parentage? She hoped that Maester Aemon might have some advice on how to handle the situation before it blew up in everyone's faces.

The rest of the walk to the library passed in relative silence, broken only by Rhaenys' yips of excitement. _She's just like her human, everything excites her._ The door to the library was huge, made of weirwood and valyrian steel that was shaped into a heart tree weeping dragonglass tears. Nymeria remembered the first time she saw the massive structure. It was just as breathtaking now and made her appreciate all the more, how fortunate she was to have been accepted into this place. The complex was truly incredible, spanning several stories and subdivided into scores of study rooms that each contained specific artefacts to designate them. Her personal favorite was the room with artefacts from her namesake's conquest over Dorne. Whenever she was feeling stressed, she only need a moment in the room to feel as though she was home again. They even managed to capture the smell of Dorne.

She was shaken out of her reverie when the ancient Maester appeared from behind a shelf and started towards them, a similarly colored young woman close behind. "Is that Arya Stark I hear? And that troublesome pup of hers?" The maester's voice was old but full of happiness. When the Starks had heard that the Targaryen was being forced to live at the Wall, they had offered to employ him as their new Maester instead. To everyone outside of the North, Aemon Targaryen had died years ago of old age and Maester Luwin had replaced him.

Now, the ancient man was the caretaker of thousands of years' worth of cherished history and medicine. The North had thrived with him as Inner City Maester. They'd been worried for the elderly man when news of the slaughter of the Targaryen innocents reached Winterfell after Robert's Rebellion. He refused to speak to anyone for weeks and the only thing that could get through to him was Lyanna's direwolf, Visenya. The two had been inconsolable until Jon arrived. With time, Aemon had recovered and was happier than ever, giving Jaemon lessons everyday on their family history. His happiness had only increased with the discovery of Daenerys. Her brother had perished on the streets trying to defend his little sister when a Stark loyalist, Lord Manderly, had found them. He brought back the girl, who couldn't have been older than four at the time, and showed her to Lord Stark. He had immediately offered her asylum and Maester Aemon had been more than happy to take her in as an assistant.

Thirteen years later and, much like Maester Aemon's case, no one in the South had any idea that the daughter of Rhaella Targaryen still lived. In the care of her great uncle, the Targaryen princess had flourished, and had hopes of seeing the Targaryen crest flying over the Red Keep again, someday. She greeted Nymeria warmly, as Maester Aemon spoke to Arya about Rhaenys and the books he had found. "Want to take a walk? Those two will be there for ages yet. Great Uncle Aemon has been talking non-stop about the books he found for Arya. They're over Direwolves and Ice Dragons," the silver-haired girl spoke easily. The two had been wary of one another at first, but after a day or so, they had warmed up and now, over a year later, were quite close friends. Nymeria told Daenerys of the outside world, how warm Dorne and Essos were and the incredible creatures that could be found in her uncle's castle.

In return, Daenerys had shared all the knowledge she had of the North and what it was like adapting to living in a new environment. The two girls walked between the shelves, listening to the murmurs of Aemon and Arya. They caught up on what the other had been doing and Daenerys' reaction to King Robert's advances were something Nym would have paid to see had it not been because of a threat to Arya. "That fat, disgusting drunk! He's the reason why Lyanna isn't alive and he's so caught up in himself that he can't see the truth. Now he wants to drag Arya down too?!" "Calm, Dany, we don't know what his plans are for Arya. As long as she remains in Winterfell, she is safe. I don't think Lord Stark would ever leave his daughters in a dangerous situation. And if he did try anything, there are at least two countries that would wage war on him without hesitation," Nym reassured her. If there was anything that people could say about Daenerys, it was that she was fiercely loyal. The Starks took her in when she had nothing and she would never forget that. Now, with one of them facing the unwanted advances of a king that is old enough to be her father? Daenerys was all too ready to fight for her people, her family.

Shuffling caught the attention of the two girls as Maester Aemon approached with Arya and Rhaenys at his heels, "Nymeria, I believe you wanted to speak to me, child?" _Thank the Gods, Daenerys' feelings have only caused my fears to grow._ "Yes, Maester Aemon, may we speak in private? It is something important." Sensing her growing discomfort, the elder Targaryen nodded his assent and they started off to the Dorne Study Room. Nymeria looked back at Dany and then at Arya, giving a pointed stare. Thankfully, Dany understood and nodded back, taking the younger girls hand and talking about a new artefact that some of Lord Commander Mormont had discovered recently.

With that out of the way, Nym followed Maester Aemon to the Dorne exhibit, pondering over what to say. She was worried about the rising tensions between the North and South since Robert's Rebellion. The North had always had a peaceful relationship with the Targaryens until the reign of Aerys, Daenerys' father and Jae's grandfather. After Lyanna was married to Rhaegar in Winterfell's Godswood, the two had left to visit Elia in Dorne. Everything went wrong after that. Somehow, Robert had found out that Lyanna had chosen Rhaegar over him and went to confront Lord Rickard Stark. The two had unpleasant words as Robert refused to accept that his betrothed had chosen another over him. The Baratheon left to gather his forces, declaring Rhaegar a monster who kidnapped his beloved Lyanna. And the realm believed him. No one outside of the North knew the truth except for the Targaryens and Martells.

Lord Rickard and his eldest son, Brandon, had journeyed to Kings Landing to warn King Aerys of what had happened but it was too late. In his anger at the uprising in the Stormlands, Aerys imprisoned his good-family and, the rest, as they say, is history. After the deaths of his father and brother, Lord Eddard Stark declared war on Mad King Aerys. He meant to install Rhaegar on the throne after Aerys was disposed of but Robert killed him at the Trident before Ned could stop him. When Lyanna found out, it was said that the heartbreak killed her. Eddard returned North with the Sword of the Morning, Ser Gerold Hightower, Lord Reed, and a newborn prince. The Lord hadn't returned South since that fateful war and Nymeria doubted he ever would, willingly.

Taking a seat across from Maester Aemon, she cleared her throat and began. "Maester, I'm sure that you've noticed how relations with our Southron counterparts is weakening. I'm afraid that the actions of King Robert may lead to a war between North and South. Dorne would side with Lord Stark and so would Braavos, but I worry. If the Fat King were to discover the truth behind Jon, or that you and Daenerys are still alive, he would be worse than Aerys. Especially with Cersei as his Queen. That woman is evil, and her son is no better. Joffrey is cruel and sadistic, killing his younger brother's pets for fun and leaving them to be found by the boy and staff. Neither Robert or Cersei discipline him and he is the Crown Prince! What happens if a war does break out and Robert dies? We'd be worse off than we were to begin with!" Nymeria drew in a breath, winded from her outburst. The maester drew a wrinkled hand over hers, "I worry too, my dear Sand Snake, but whatever happens, the North will be ready. We have never been idle, not since the first stones were laid by Bran "the Builder" after the first Long Night. Whatever comes of this visit, the North will persevere, as we always have. You are right to worry, for the coming years will not be borne easily. Winter is coming, and our faith must remain strong. The Old Gods guide and protect us, even when it does not feel like it."

Leave it to Maester Aemon to address fears that she didn't even know she had. "Yes, Maester Aemon, thank you for listening." The blind man smiled, a joyful thing, "Of course, young one, if you ever have need of an open ear, my counsel is always available." Nym rose, leaving the Maester to sort through some books that were left. She found Arya with Daenerys by the Hospice. They were sitting by a shallow stream, lined with mosaic tiles to give it the impression of the ocean floor. There were beautiful fish, gleaming silver and gold, while lapis lazuli made up the water and emerald's the sea bed. Overall, it was a wonderful thing, and she knew that Arya spent quite a bit of time there, studying the flow of the water. "Come Arya, it is time to go. Your mother will want you ready for the feast tonight." The brunette groaned but complied, picking up her things and placing the harness back on Rhaenys, "Bye Dany, I'll see you tomorrow!"

The trio made it back up to the bedroom with plenty of time to get Arya ready. Nymeria got Arya bathed and dressed, doing her hair in a traditional braid down her back. One dark blue dress later, with a special pair of breeches underneath, and Arya was ready for the feast. As part of her training, Nymeria had Arya help her get ready, showing her how to store daggers and throwing knives without them being seen. A knock at door and the two froze, before relaxing as Lady Stark came in with Shaelin and Visenya. Rhaenys ran over to her mother and aunt, trying in vain to jump up onto their backs. Arya stifled a giggle at the silly antics of her pup. "Arya, Shaelin is going to be with your father tonight and we agreed that Visenya could stay with you at the feast." Even though she fumed at why it was necessary to have a fully grown direwolf protecting her in her own home, Arya was excited. She rarely got to spend time with Visenya due to her studies and the wolf had always been one of her favorites, understanding her antics when few others did.

Arya nodded and the group made their way to the feast, dread filling their steps the entire way. The air felt tense, like it was about to snap and even the Direwolves looked uneasy. Something was wrong, they just didn't know what. Pausing outside the doors to the hall, Lady Catelyn looked down at her youngest daughter. "Arya, no matter what happens out there, know that we love you. Your father, myself, Sansa,' at that Arya snorted, 'the North, we all love you." Lady Catelyn knelt down and hugged her daughter, afraid to let go. "Alright, let's go show them how the North feasts." "Yes, mother," was Arya's only reply, as she nervously leaned on Visenya. _Gods, if you're listening, please keep everyone safe._

 ** _End of Chapter 2_**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Hey guys! I'm so sorry about the lack of updates. I had a ton of family emergencies come up recently and haven't had the time or will to write anything lately. This chapter is shorter than my previous uploads but never fear, I already have the fourth chapter almost ready to upload! To recap, Tommen and Myrcella ARE true-born Baratheons. They both have black hair and greenish-blue eyes. Jon is actually Jaemon Targaryen. He hides his identity as the illegitimate son of Brandon Stark and Ashara Dayne. He also is referred to as Jae, Jon, and Jaemon. All of the Stark's have direwolves except for Catelyn since she was born a Tully. There are other direwolves outside of the ones that the Starks bond with. In this story, a direwolf can grow to be the size of a large pony or a small horse. Beyond that, I again apologize for the inconvenience and thank you to everyone that has commented on this story! Your questions and suggestions have honestly been amazing and I just want to thank you guys for the overwhelming support and love for this story.

 _ ***Disclaimer***_

 _ ***As always, I own none of this. All characters, plots, and anything else come from the brilliance that is George R.R. Martin***_

 _ **Chapter 3**_

 _ **Winterfell, 298 AC**_

"Well that was surprisingly _not_ an absolute disaster," Jon said and everyone around him nodded. From his chair in the family solar Ned sighed haggardly. Having Robert around was even more exhausting than he remembered. _Especially when you're worried about the safety of your family and the North._ Thankfully, from the beginning of the feast to its close, Robert was in the company of several Wintertown whores. The women would be reporting to him in the morning about any and all information that the king let slip. It had been Nymeria's idea to use brothels as a front for a spy network. So far, it had proved more than fruitful, the women selected for the duty were more than happy to help keep the Realm safe, even if it was from behind a curtain.

Beside him, Catelyn was busily threading a needle through fabric. In and out, a design that only she could see taking shape with the ease of long practice. "I don't like this Ned. It was too calm at the feast. Something is building, something dangerous. The North is not safe with lions prowling around." Ned opened his mouth, only to be cut off by Catelyn with a glare. "No Ned, you can't ignore this. I know that you were close to Robert once but those days are gone. Your friend isn't the same and neither are you. He's dug his grave, do not let him dig the Norths." While the Stark brood were used to seeing the occasional spat between their parents, they had never seen Lady Catelyn so worked up over something. The hands which had so expertly been embroidering minutes before were now clenched, knuckles white with the effort not to shake in fear and anger. "My Lord, if I may, Lady Catelyn is right. Robert lost the right to call for aid when his foolishness led to a war that cost the North and South their best hope for peace since Aegon the Conqueror and Torrhen Stark." Jory Cassel spoke from his position by the solar entrance. "It's fine Jory, and Catelyn, I'm not going to make excuses for Robert or the Lannisters. He lost all rights to our loyalty after the sacking of Kings Landing." Everyone paused momentarily, mourning the loss of Elia Martell and her two children, Aegon and Rhaenys, Jon's half-siblings.

Catelyn was the first to regain her composure, nervously looking toward the door before voicing the thought that was going through everyone's head. "There will be a war soon, won't there, Ned? I can't picture Robert living much longer, not being tied to the people that he is. And his 'son'? Nymeria and the boys have told me horror stories about him and what he's done to his siblings." Ned sighed roughly, rubbing a hand across his face. "Yes, Cat, there is a storm brewing and I don't believe that there will be much longer before it breaks and brings down the wrath of the Old Gods and New. Winter is coming and we must prepare." Shaelin got up from her position by Ned's feet and quickly crossed the room to face the door, growling softly.

"Jory, open the door immediately." The order scarcely passed Lord Stark's lips before his brown direwolf bolted out of the room, followed closely by her partner. The rest of the Starks all glanced at each other before joining the two retreating shapes. On and on they ran until they reached a poorly lit corner of the castle, outside of the stables. Lord Stark swore as he saw the bloodied body of the king's youngest child, sweet little Tommen. He was unmoving, save the faint rise and fall of his battered chest. "Quickly, we must get him to the Inner City." Arya looked at her father with alarm, "But the Inner City is a secret. What happens if he tells someone about it?" She was shushed by Sansa. "Then we'll deal with that if it happens. What's more important, Arya? The life of a child or our pride?" Ned looked at his eldest daughter with fondness. For a while he and Catelyn were worried with how much she loved learning about the South but as she got older that naivety faded and revealed a sharp mind and sharper wit. She was training under Varys in secret to learn the politics of the South and Essos. Shaking his head as his thoughts wondered Ned looked at the boy in his arms. _Who would want to attack Tommen Baratheon? It's well known how gentle the child is._ Only one name came to mind, and the possibilities surrounding it troubled him. If the rumors about the Crown Prince were true then it was entirely likely that Joffrey was behind his brothers injuries. Jaemon, Robb, and Theon had all come to him after speaking to Tommen earlier that morning. What they had disclosed was…disturbing, to say the least. If Tommen could confirm it then he needed to get the two youngest Baratheons out of Kings Landing as soon as possible.

Together, the Starks, with Jory, Theon, and the two Direwolves made their way to the Inner City, passing unnoticed through Winterfell's passages. It seemed only moments before Ned reached Maester Aemon's Hospital Wing. The wizened Targaryen was waiting patiently, a white raven resting on his shoulder, watching with three intelligent red eyes. "Place the boy upon a bed, gently now' the maester instructed, 'what do you know of how Tommen Baratheon came to be on his death bed?" Ned cleared his throat, the mask of the Lord of Winterfell slipping over his features. "We're not sure. Shaelin alerted us to something being wrong and we found Tommen soon after near the stables." A dark look passed over the maesters face as he inspected the boy, hands searching and pressing. It seemed an age before he spoke once more, only to ask for someone to get him milk of the poppy and his surgical equipment. The raven flew away moments after that, heading towards one of the exits of the city.

Minutes turned into hours as the Starks and their most loyal sat patiently waiting for word of the prince. In the meanwhile, the white raven reappeared, followed closely by all of the Direwolves and, to everyone's surprise, Myrcella Baratheon. The young girl was surrounded by Direwolves, protecting her from all but the Starks. The raven cawed before taking off again, this time to rest once more on Maester Aemon's shoulder. "Ah, I see we have a guest. My dear child, would you come here please? I sense that all is not as it should be." The dark-haired girl looked at the elderly man with scared eyes. She would not have moved an inch if not for the silvery-grey direwolf that gently pressed its head against her back, pushing her forward. "Please ser, I was looking for Tommen and…" Myrcella paused, fear evident in her face, but not, Ned observed, of the present company.

The dark feeling in the pit of Ned's stomach grew and he just knew that something horrible was happening. "Princess Myrcella, you have my word as the Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North that you are safe here. Nothing can hurt you while the Direwolves are around." The raven-haired girl still appeared nervous, but nodded her head. "I was looking for Tommen and found Joffrey. He…he was covered...in blood. There was so much blood.' She shook as she continued. 'I asked him if he was ok and he…he laughed and said that Tommen looked much better in red than in gold. He asked me if I would look better in red and I ran. The Direwolves found me and led me here." His children stiffened and glanced at one another, horrified. "Do you know where Tommen is? I've never seen Joffrey like that before. He appeared…mad." Myrcella asked, worry for her brother evident. Maester Aemon replied, voice gentle and soothing. "Yes, my dear, he is safe. The Starks brought him here only three hours past. He is recovering from his wounds in my Hospital Wing."

His words brought a look of relief to the princess, her shoulders sagging as if a great weight had been taken off of them. "May I see him?" she asked. "Of course, my dear. Follow me, Arya, if you could come as well? And bring Visenya and Rhaenys with you, I should like to see how they are faring. The two girls left, followed by the Direwolves in question.

Ned sighed, feeling older than he thought it possible to be. _Lyanna, father, Brandon, what is coming? I can feel it building. People like Joffrey are becoming more common than those like Myrcella and Tommen. Winter is coming._ "Gather those most loyal to us. Joffrey must be monitored, as discreetly as possible. Someone must summon Varys north. I do not trust anyone south of the Neck with his head." Ned spoke with authority. Jory left, the gravity of their current situation lending him speed. Beside him, Sansa spoke. "Father, what is going to happen? Myrcella and Tommen aren't safe with that monster. The Queen has no love for the North and we all know that King Robert will not reign for much longer if she has her way. With Joffrey as king Westeros is doomed." She was right. With Joffrey in charge all of Westeros would suffer, lords and small folk alike. But what could he do? He was bound by honor as the Warden of the North to protect the… _the North_. Ned was sworn to protect the _North_ for its king. Who that king was didn't matter. It didn't matter if they were a king of the North, or of the South.

His eldest children seemed to be coming to the same conclusion. Theon spoke first, a look of caution on his usually surly face. "Lord Stark. Perhaps we might call a meeting of the lords of the North? They should be made aware of the situation that is brewing with our monarchs." "Theon and Sansa are right father, Joffrey cannot be allowed to rule. To sit him upon the throne is to welcome a new Mad King Aerys." Robb defended his sister and friend, as Grey Wind rose to his feet, eyes narrowed. Ned felt pride in his children. _They're growing up. May the world be ready when they're old enough to ascend to their seats._ However, one stayed silent, observing everyone else. "Jaemon, what say you?" Ned called to his nephew, interested in his opinion. The lad in question looked up, surprised by the sudden attention. He remained silent for a few moments, a look of concentration on his face. "I believe that Westeros will not see rest if things are allowed to continue. King Robert has drunk and whored the country into a debt that it has almost no hope of paying off. His Small Council is corrupt and care only for their own personal gain. The Grand Maseter is a well-known Lannister supporter and reports directly to Cersei on most issues. If Joffrey were to seize control it would only get worse. He takes pleasure from the pain of others. What would stop him from inflicting that on his subjects? Who would stop him? If he were king, millions of innocents would suffer and die from his negligence. As children of Houses Stark, Greyjoy, and Targaryen we are honor bound to protect this realm from all threats, inside and outside its borders. If we don't take action, what right have we to fashion ourselves as better?"

Ned contemplated his family's advice. They all agreed that to let Robert continue on his path was folly, as was letting Joffrey sit the throne and Cersei manipulate him. As far as the North was concerned, Robert had never been someone worth following or respecting and Ned was fairly certain that the rest of the realm now shared those views. The Lannisters were vicious and if not for members like Tyrion and even sometimes Jaime, Ned would gladly have seen them given the same fate as the Reynes. The faces of his family flashed in his mind. Lyanna and Rhaegar, dead because of Robert's pride. Brandon and father, dead because of Aerys' pride. So many people dead because of pride. _And so many more would fall because of Joffrey's._ There was no choice, it had already been made the moment that Tywin Lannister allowed the Mountain to kill two babes and rape their mother, all for the sake of "honor."

"We will discuss this further when the lords and ladies arrive. I will not let such actions go unpunished but we must not act in anger or fear." Ned spoke with a tone that allowed no questions. He was, in that moment, only Lord Stark, Warden of the North. Those around him bowed their heads. He walked past his children and into the hospital wing.

Immediately upon entering, Ned was struck with how clean everything was. He'd only been to this part of the Inner City a handful of times, namely the birth of his children and when Daenerys was brought to them but the hospital hadn't changed at all. Lining the smooth mosaic walls were doors leading to individual rooms. No one person shared a room with another unless there was an emergency, to keep infection risks at bay. There were different nurses and apprentices on shift throughout the day, all of them reporting to Maester Aemon. All around were bright colors, the only solids coming from the cloth that was waiting to be washed in a bin nearby. A nurse quickly came forward, followed by a raven. "Right this way, Lord Stark. Your daughter and Maester Aemon are with the Baratheons in room seven." The raven flew above them, cawing "Seven!"

Ned followed the nurse, his feet like lead as the bed drew closer. On it was Tommen. _Gods, he's so pale and small._ The boy looked far better than he had when he'd been found but the way he was splayed out reminded Ned of someone else, from a day he'd prefer forgotten. Beside the boy was his sister, Myrcella and his own daughter, Arya. Myrcella was stroking her younger brother's inky locks, still wet from a wash. _To get all of that blood off. Gods, the blood._ A face flashed in Ned's mind, equally pale with long brown curls instead of black waves. _Promise me, Ned._ Lyanna's last words haunted him constantly, along with Father and Rickard's fate and others. _Why can't I forget? Why have I been tasked to remember?_ "Lord Stark?" Myrcella's voice rang out, hesitant but strong, snapping him out of his thoughts. "Yes, Lady Myrcella?" The girl looked at her brother and the wolf that stood by his bed. "Thank you for saving my brother. If something had happened…if Joffrey had succeeded…' she seemed unable to continue, tears streaming down her face, '…thank you." He watched as Arya carefully embraced the other girl, soothing her tears. _I promised you, Lyanna. It's time I fulfilled it._

 _ *****Two weeks later*****_

Ever since that night when he found Tommen, Ned had been planning on how to get Robert's youngest children to stay in Winterfell. His spies had reported that the king was getting restless and wanted to leave soon. Things were deteriorating between him and Cersei more and more, giving Ned the perfect opportunity to strike. "Your Grace!" Ned called out, catching up to his king. "Hmm, what do you want Ned? I was about to go riding, the wind is promising rain and I want to do something before it pours." Robert huffed, grabbing the reins of his massive destrier. "Of course, Your Grace. Might I join you on your ride? There is a matter that I'd like to discuss that I believe would be profitable for the both of us." The king considered for a moment before signaling to ready another horse. Once a second mount was prepared, the two set out past the gates and into the Wolfswood. Robert broke the silence first, pulling out his wineskin. "Now what was it that you wanted to talk about, Ned? And it better be good since you refused my offer of Hand. I didn't bring enough wine with me to speak too long of politics." Lord Stark ran over what he had prepared the night before. He had to get this right if he wanted to keep Tommen and Myrcella safe. "Your Grace, Robert. The matter is about Tommen and Myrcella. It is mine and Lady Catelyn's wish to foster them at Winterfell." The king looked dumbstruck, shaking his great head in a style not dissimilar to a dog. "You want to foster those two in the North? That's fine with me but you know that Cersei won't like that and I don't want to hear her screaming day in and day out." He was so close, Robert was easy to manipulate, Ned thought sadly. But Cersei. Cersei would need an incentive, something to guarantee the welfare of her children. "What if they were betrothed to two of my own and Tommen served as squire to the Warden of the North?" Ned held his breath, he knew that his offer was a good one. A betrothal between the two youngest Baratheons and two of his own brood would create a strong tie with the Stormlands, Crownlands, and Westerlands. And the Lannisters and Baratheons would gain allies with the Riverlands and North. Yes, even one marriage would unify almost all of Westeros, if only for a few generations. Robert seemed to agree, if his response was anything to go by. "You have yourself a deal. Tommen and Myrcella will foster here at Winterfell and if in that time, a betrothal is arranged between them and any of your brood then all the better. Tommen will serve as your squire and be knighted once he reaches the age and skill that the title deserves. I'll deal with the Queen."

King Robert's answer both pleased and floored Ned. He couldn't believe that the king didn't demand a betrothal, but instead gave a graceful way out if the matches didn't work. _He's done much wrong in his life, but in this, he was right._ Ned had dreaded the thought of forcing his children to marry for political stability but Robert had saved him from that curse. The fact that Arya was not brought up once was also a good sign. His lecherous glances hadn't gone unnoticed and Ned knew that the staff of Winterfell had been watching their king like a wolf, ready to sink its fangs into his throat if something happened to its pup. Ned excused himself, riding back to Winterfell to deliver the news. There were plans to make for the morrow, and the Wise Wolf refused to leave the North open for attack from vengeful lionesses.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Hey guys! As always thank you so much for reading this story! Your reviews have been beyond helpful and I'm really hoping that this chapter is something that you guys will enjoy reading. To recap, Tommen was attacked by Joffrey and found by the Starks. He was brought to the Inner City, Winterfell's underground sanctuary. Robert has gone behind Cersei's back and arranged for his two youngest to foster at Winterfell with the Starks. This chapter is mainly Arya-Sansa centric and takes place the day of the goodbye feast for the King and Queen. And as always, if you guys have any questions or suggestions for how you think the story should go, let me know!

 _ ***Disclaimer**_ _ *****_

 _ ***As always, I own none of this. All characters, plots, and anything else come from the brilliance that is George R.R. Martin.**_

 _ **Chapter 4**_

 _ **Winterfell, 298 AC**_

Arya wanted to fight. She'd been stuck watching everyone let that ponce, Joffrey, win at everything under the sun just because his father was the king. If she had to witness Jon, Robb or even Theon willingly lose to that blond prick one more time she was going to scream. _If only I had Needle with me, I'd show him how good he really is._ Mother had confiscated her braavosi blade until the king and his family left Winterfell. Arya shuddered remembering the lecture she'd had to sit through that day. Lady Catelyn had been as fierce as Visenya when she declared that 'No daughter of mine, lady or not, will be carrying a blade in the presence of royalty!' Now she was stuck looking through the window of Septa Mordane's solar, ignoring the comments of Jeyne Poole and Beth Cassel…again.

 _Can they think of nothing original? Honestly, with how much they seem to despise me you'd wonder why they put so little effort into their insults._ Arya chuckled, the two girls really reminded her of chickens sometimes. Clucking around and picking at the dirt until they found a scrap of something interesting that they'd automatically turn on one another for. ''Lady Arya, your stiches are terribly uneven, I thought you were trying for a direwolf, not a horse face." Jeyne tittered cruelly, a demure look upon her face as Septa Mordane agreed. "Yes, Lady Arya, your stiches could use some serious work. Are you even trying, girl?" She rolled her eyes. Those insults might have started a screaming match a few years ago but now? _Laughable. Syrio and Nymeria would be on the floor if they saw how stupid these girls are._ "Of course, Septa Mordane, Jeyne. I was going for something a little more creative than you or Beth, I've heard that such designs are considered shallow and remarkably unpleasant in their stale repetitiveness by the master seamstresses of Essos, Dorne, Asshai, the Free Cities, and just about everywhere except this room really.' Arya replied innocently, a sweet smile upon her face 'If you'll excuse me, Septa Mordane, I believe that Lord Stark had business he wished to speak to me of at this time. Good day, Beth, oh and Jeyne, do remember to close your mouth, flies might come out." With that, she gracefully rose and left the room.

As soon as the door was behind her, Arya's gentle smile turned absolutely wicked and she resisted the urge to whoop. _Their faces! Jeyne looked like she had swallowed a toad! And I don't think that I've ever rendered Mordane speechless before!_ The brunette made her way to her to the kitchens, feeling like the cat that ate the canary. Inside, the staff were all working on the nights feast. The royal party would be leaving soon and they'd been up since dawn preparing for their last feast in Winterfell. "Gage, do you need any help down here?" Arya called out to the Head Cook. The large man smiled, eyes twinkling kindly under bushy white brows. "I think that some of the ladies were about to start making lemon cakes, if you'd like to assist them I'm sure that you'd be welcome." Arya grinned and bolted off, her skirmish with Septa Mordane, Jeyne, and Beth set aside for the moment.

 _ ******Later that day******_

Sansa laughed as Arya recounted her verbal spar with Winterfell's ladies-in-waiting and Septa Mordane. She loved watching Arya like this, carefree and animated, just being herself where no one would judge her. _I can't believe that I used to hate her. How could I have been so naïve and vain?_ The redhead continued to laugh as Arya's arm-movements got progressively wilder. "Oh, you should have seen their faces, Sansa! Jeyne looked like she was going to faint! And Septa Mordane! You'd have thought that there was a toad in her mouth for how green she was turning!" Arya fell back on Sansa's bed, giggling with delight. _Oh Gods, did she just…._ "Did _Arya Stark_ , the wolf of Winterfell, just _GIGGLE_?" Sansa all but cried with laughter as her little sister just giggled again in response.

The two kept laughing until a knock sounded on the chamber door. They paused looking down at their Direwolves. Visenya, Rhaenys, and Sansa's own wolf, Lady, stayed at their spots by the bed, calm and quiet. "Come in," the redhead called, unconsciously smoothing out her clothes. Bran poked his head through cautiously, "Is it ok if I stay here? Everyone else is busy right now and Rickon is sleeping." At a nod from his older sisters, the boy entered the room, Summer following behind. "So, what's the latest news about Tommen? I haven't been by the hospital wing yet." Bran asked, elbowing Arya to move over on the bed. "Well if you'd stop elbowing me I'd be able to tell you!" Sansa just sighed at Bran's sheepish expression. "Sorry, Arya" he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. _Those two._

"It's fine, just tell us you need room next time instead of elbowing me in the side. And Tommen is stable now, thanks to Maester Aemon and Maester Luwin. Myrcella has been with him most of the day I think." The three children shared somber looks. No one envied either Baratheon sibling their current situation. "And what do the King and Queen have to say on this, Sansa?' Arya asked curiously, 'Surely they've noticed Tommen's absence from the meals and training grounds? And Myrcella constantly running off whenever Joffrey is there?" The redhead just scoffed as she reached out to pet Lady. "Queen Cersei may hate many things but her children are more precious to her than any amount of gold. She's been suspicious of Tommen's frequent vanishing acts when he's visiting Maester Aemon. Theon and Robb have been running interference as much as they can but it's good that Winterfell won't be hosting the royal party for much longer.' Sansa paused, choosing her words carefully, 'As for Myrcella, I'm not entirely sure. Queen Cersei doesn't seem too concerned which I find odd considering her usual protectiveness. I'm not sure whether to take that as a sign that Myrcella and Tommen avoiding Joffrey is normal or that she is too distracted to notice. I fear for the continued safety of the youngest royals if my first guess holds truth."

There was silence as her siblings absorbed the new information. Finally, Arya spoke, "At least Father has already taken care of that. The King has agreed to foster Tommen and Myrcella here at Winterfell on the condition that both are given consideration for betrothals within the Stark line when all of us are a few years older." Bran's face screwed up in disgust at the prospect of marriage, causing his sisters to laugh. "Bran I don't think that you'll have to worry about marriage with Myrcella. She's far more likely to be considered for Robb if she marries a Stark at all." Sansa reassured her still scowling brother. _I think that Cersei would die before she saw Myrcella married to a second-son, even of an ancient house like Stark. She's far too proud to accept anything less than first-born sons of High Lords._

The three continued to talk and joke until dinner was announced. It was the last feast that the Royal Court would be present for so it was supposed to be massive. Sansa remembered seeing Arya help one of the cooks with the preparations, covered in flour and grinning with joy. When she had asked what her sister had been helping make all she got were secret smiles and Arya's sing-song reply, "You'll find out tonight, Sansa!" The staff of Winterfell truly loved her sister. _And for good reason. She's the heart of this House._ Said sister's cries tore Sansa out of her thoughts. "Sansa, can you help me braid my hair?! Nymeria is talking to Mother and Father!" Walking over, Sansa could see that her sister had already put on her dress, one of the gowns that she and Nymeria had designed together. It was a stormy color that brought out her sisters' smoke-like eyes. "And why can't you braid it yourself? I thought that Nymeria had taught you how ages ago?" Arya shrugged, "She did, I just don't want to tonight. Besides, you're the best person with hair that I know."

Sansa sighed, her sister might be the heart of Winterfell but she still had some growing up to do. "Fine, but just this once." She ignored the pleased smirk that passed Arya's face. _Just you wait, baby sister. One day when you have daughters or nieces I'll make sure that they know just how good you are with hair._ The two girls finished getting ready, Sansa straightening out her pale blue dress. She was quite proud of it, and even Arya thought that it complimented her features. Lady followed her human, a matching collar of leather embroidered with winter roses around her neck. Together, the girls with their wolves made the walk to the Great Hall. _I wonder how Queen Cersei will be behaving tonight. Word had to have reached her about the fostering of Tommen and Myrcella._ The doors to the great hall opened to reveal the room completely full. It was loud and smelt of hundreds of different foods and drinks, most unfamiliar to Sansa. _Must be Southron dishes. Northern ones are not nearly so perfumed and Esossi cuisine is full of spice._ The sisters took their places at the highest table. Sansa was seated beside Myrcella and Arya in between a pale Tommen and Bran. Robb was seated near Lord and Lady Stark who had surrendered their usual seats to the King and Queen as a sign of respect. Joffrey was seated closely to his mother, listening to her thinly-veiled insults with a sick smile.

 _Ugh, I'm beyond relieved that Father and King Robert did not consider a betrothal between Joffrey and myself._ As a little girl, Sansa had always dreamed of being a queen. Of ruling over others and having incredible tourney's where she would be crowned the eternal Queen of Love and Beauty, just like her Aunt Lyanna. That dreamed changed though, when she was around eight name days old. She was spying on a meeting between Father and one of his liege lords. Sansa didn't remember the man's name but his words had shattered her image of the world up until that point. "You've read the ravens, there's been a wedding. The bride was of an age with your boys, barely seen her twelfth name day before her father shipped her off to a man old enough to be her grandfather." Her father had sighed, a sound so haggard and _tired_. It sounded so strange coming from a man she'd always associated with strength and nobility. "Another one of Walder Frey's child-brides? What number is he up to now? Fifteen?" The liege-lord had chuckled, but it sounded worn like her father's sigh. "Six. The man seems to have a new wife every month, the _Widower_ indeed."

Sansa recalled having wondered what happened to all of those girls. _How could a man have seen five wives die already? Why did they die so soon?_ The fear of being overheard had carried Sansa back to her room. There she waited for her mother, if anyone would know the answers to Sansa's questions, it would be her. When Lady Catelyn came to tuck her eldest daughter in later that night she asked her to stay, to answer something that she'd been wondering about. "Of course, dear one.' Lady Catelyn had said, smoothing her daughter's sheets. 'What is on that brilliant little mind of yours?" And she had answered. Her mother had been shocked to hear her little dreamer ask about Walder Frey and his child-bride. "I thought that ladies marry knights and princes, like in the songs. Why would a father give his daughter to a man that's called _the Widower_? Father won't make me do that, will he?" For the first time in her short life, Sansa saw her mother falter. Her face, always so calm, so beautiful and ladylike, cracked. It was like seeing a completely different person and it had scared her. Sansa still remembered the feeling of bone-deep fear as her mother remained silent, absentmindedly stroking her daughter's hair.

It had taken her ages to respond, that look of loss still on her face. "Sansa. Sometimes, people do things that aren't always right. There are many in the world who will try to tell you what you are worth. That girl was seen as a bargaining tool, as are most ladies and lords south of the Neck. For them, marriages are a contract and daughters are the ink with which to sign.' Her mother had paused for a moment, before taking Sansa's face in her hands, a look of burning intensity holding her in place. 'Life isn't a song, Sansa. But that doesn't mean that it can't be beautiful, that there aren't people of kindness and nobility in the world. You are special, not because you are a lady of a Great House, but because you are _Sansa_! No one else in the world will ever be the same as _you_. You must never let anything or anyone make you feel less than human, less than yourself. You are not property, you are my daughter. Do you understand?" And Sansa did, understand that is. That day had forever changed her perspective on marriages and life in general for people in Westeros. Now, six years later, Sansa was glad of that realization. Yes, the Crown Prince was handsome. His mother was _Cersei Lannister_ after all. But any beauty that blood had gifted him was made horrid by the cruel light in his eyes and the sinister curve of his smile. It was unsettling, to say the least and Sansa was glad of the distance between them as she tried to ignore his occasional glances in her direction.

Beside her, Myrcella was also aware of her elder brother's stares. The darker-haired girl was stiff and refused to look at him. _She is brave, I'm not sure if I would have the same strength to sit near someone that had tormented me for so long._ Nearby, Robb also watched the interaction, or lack thereof, between the royal siblings, a slight frown on his face. _I wonder what his feelings are on the matter._ Robb had looked ready to hunt down the blond pipsqueak and end him personally after Tommen was found. He, Jon, and Theon had all taken a liking to the little boy and seeing him hurt must have been nearly as bad as if it were Bran or Rickon. She was taken out of her musings when she felt a little tug on her sleeve. Myrcella leaned over, careful to avoid her mother's gaze. "Sansa, is it ok if we leave the feast? I'm not hungry, not anymore." Sansa glanced subtly at her younger friend. "Of course, just let me tell Mother and Father."

Her parents were talking quietly to themselves, when Sansa walked toward them, Myrcella close behind. "Princess Myrcella, Sansa, what is it? Is there something wrong?" Her father asked, concern etched on his tired face. "Nothing at all, Father. Myrcella and I were just going to retire for the night. The Queen is busy with Prince Joffrey so I thought that you should know where we were if she asks after Myrcella." Lady Catelyn nodded, a look of understanding crossing her features briefly before disappearing beneath a serene smile. "Thank you for the thought, we'll make sure that the Queen knows before she retires for the evening. Goodnight Princess Myrcella, Sansa." Ducking out as quickly as they could, both girls made for Sansa's chambers. They took the long way, ducking in and out of several passages just in case someone was following them. _You can never be too sure with the Queen…or Joffrey._

Finally, after what felt like an age, they reached Sansa's door, only to halt as they saw someone standing in front of it. The figure turned around and laughed as the girls drew closer. "Took you two long enough, my surprise is going to get cold if you don't hurry up!" Arya huffed, a grin on her lips despite her annoyed words. "I thought you were at the feast, Arya?" Myrcella asked innocently. "I was, and so were you. But it got boring and when you both left I figured that it would be okay for me to as well." Arya explained as if it was obvious. _That makes…sense, I suppose._ "And why are you waiting outside my door, rather than sleeping in your room?" At that, the grin returned, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. _Old Gods and New, help me._ "Because you haven't seen your surprise yet, stupid." _My surprise, of course. Hopefully it isn't anything that'll damage my room…again._ "Fine. Where are Rhaenys and Visenya?" The brunette moved aside to give her sister more room as she opened the door. "Rhaenys needed to go use the bathroom and Visenya didn't want her wandering by herself when there was a feast going on." Myrcella, who had been listening intently, spoke up once the door closed behind them. "What do you mean? Can Rhaenys and Visenya communicate with you? Is that how they knew where to find me that night?" Both of the Stark girls nodded, Sansa motioning for her to sit down while Arya went to get something from a hidden cupboard. "The Direwolves can communicate with anyone, but only bond with those carrying Stark blood. When a Stark is born, a direwolf will be born that takes a liking to them. Together, the two will have a soul bond. They're two halves of the same whole, and once they're both a certain age they can talk to one another mentally."

Arya approached the pair with something hidden behind her back, interrupting their conversation. "I give you, your surprise!" She brought her arms back around to her front and bowed with a flourish. In her hands was a tray of lemon cakes, carefully glazed and set. _That must have been why she was covered in flour earlier. Arya took the time to make my favorite food._ "Oh, Arya! Thank you for the lemon cakes, now I know why you and the cooks were being so secretive earlier." Sansa swept up her sibling in a hug that was returned with awkward patting and a slightly strangled voice saying, "Ok, I love you too but you're kind of choking me, Sansa!" Myrcella laughed as Sansa quickly let her sister go and smoothed out her clothes. "Sorry about that, Arya. I was afraid that your surprise was another prank, not something so thoughtful." "Hey! My pranks are thoughtful! It takes me ages to plan them!" Sansa chuckled at Arya's protests. _May she always be like this._

 _ ***** The Kings Chambers*****_

"You're not leaving my son and daughter with these savages! I refuse to allow this and once Father hears of it, neither will he!" Cersei shrieked at Robert. _How dare he! He has no right to decide the future of my children when it is convenient to him and ignore us when it isn't._ Robert, the _great_ king that he was, ignored her and continued to drink his damned wine. "My children are not objects! They will not be traded off like goods in a market, you drunk pig!" Cersei made to grab the wine pitcher but froze when she felt Robert's hand grab her wrist. His grip was like iron yet he remained calm. The only way she could tell that he was upset was the cold fury rolling in his eyes, bringing fear into her heart. _If he hurts me, he will pay. A lion does not cower before a stag._

Robert spoke calmly, his face inches from her own. "Myrcella and Tommen are Baratheons. Not Lannisters. They are my children and I am their king as much as I am their father. It is within my rights to foster them wherever I choose, with or without your consent. If you write to your father then I will gladly hear his response as I'm sure that he will agree. A match between either of our children will bring the North back into the fold. Fostering Myrcella and Tommen here will at the very least strengthen relations between the nations for a generation but giving them the _option_ of marrying will tie us together for a hundred years." He stopped, his grip loosening. Before her very eyes, she watched Robert Baratheon age beyond his years. Cersei, as much as she hated the drunk, used to care for her king. And she had never, in her time beside him, seen such a worn look on his face. "My lord, are you well?" The look upon his face was beginning to worry her. _It is not time yet. The plan is not ready._ "No, Cersei. I'm tired, more tired than you could ever believe. I haven't slept a full night since the rebellion, did you know? Every time I try to close my eyes, I see the faces. So many faces. The only way I don't see them is by drinking. When I blackout I don't dream, it is black and I can breathe. Being in Winterfell, being around Ned. It's made it worse. Everywhere I go there are ghosts. Brandon, Rickard, Lyanna. They're in the walls, in the halls, even in Ned's youngest. No matter what I do I can't escape them."

Cersei rose, thoroughly unsettled by her husband's surprising honesty. _I must speak to Jaime._ Robert's mental health had always been in question with the Lannisters. He drank enough for ten, whored his way through the city, and swung from jolly to enraged with the slightest misstep. Despite all of that, he'd been relatively harmless and Cersei could get away with quite a bit. But this? _There is something wrong inside of him. I've never seen him this way before._ She needed help if she was to handle this change accordingly. _This doesn't change my plan but it will provide an extra challenge._ If Robert was suddenly wanting to be involved in the lives of his children then so be it. It changed nothing. _Soon, you will be dead and Joffrey will be king. My golden lion will rule the seven kingdoms while you rot with your ghosts._ "Goodnight, Robert." Cersei smiled sweetly before exiting, leaving the king to his cup. _Soon._

 **End of Chapter 4**


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